


If a Tree Grows in an Empty Forest,

by beforeyoustartyourday



Series: Late Night Convos With Josh and Tyler [1]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforeyoustartyourday/pseuds/beforeyoustartyourday
Summary: does it truly matter?





	

**Author's Note:**

> it doesn't explicitly mention either of tyler or josh's names, but i hope i wrote them both well enough in the 272 words that i quickly wrote.

"there's something romantic about dying." he turned to me, and for the first time that night i saw just how tired he was. it wasn't the first time ever, though. he was always tired, just not this tired.

i shifted around to face him. he was just barely grown; still a teenager, almost, but his glassy eyes told differently.

“of course there is. nobody knows what happens afterwards.”

“maybe,” the boy-not-quite-a-man-but-not-quite-young whispered, “when we die, we become the stars, just like the old legends say.”

i stared back up at the constellations above, the stars which i saw in his eyes every day. “or maybe dying is waking up. maybe we’re always dying, because our families are trying to wake us.”

the boy with the constellations in his eyes and a smudge of dirt on his cheek sighed. “do you ever wonder if we’re dying or living? i don’t ever know which i am doing.”

i pondered the answer to that. i knew that he was living. he was creating. he was trying, and that was the fine line. what was i doing? i was following what i wanted to do. maybe that truly was trying.

if it wasn’t what i wanted to do, maybe it wasn’t actually trying.

“we’re doing what we want to do. we’re trying. so yes, we are living.” i paused. “i guess that’s what matters.”

when he spoke, i heard the sleepy smile and the thanks that was left unsaid. “maybe we’ll make it.”

his breathing was soft, gentle, a cat’s purr, a fresh pillow. he was nearly asleep, thank god.

“we already have.”

**Author's Note:**

> whoops my finger slipped


End file.
